WHO: Tuor, Idril, and Calleigh WHERE: The Beach WHEN: Monday afternoon WHAT: Treating an injury. Panicking. RATING: Medium for injuries and blood.
It really wasn't a very serious injury. That wasn't to say that it didn't hurt - it did. It also wasn't to say that there wasn't a good deal of blood involved - the sand near his foot was stained red from it. but Tuor had no fear whatsoever that he would die from it, even if he ripped the damnéd thing out of his foot. He knew, though, that wasn't the wisest option.
Idril's panicking hadn't helped any. He knew that it had more to do with the fact of his mortality than everything else, and that becoming hysterical over the slightest injury was her way of dealing with that. Or not dealing. Nevertheless, he had lifted Eärendil over his head to her and told her to care for him, in the hopes that somehow they could get each other to stop crying. It was likely a hopeless case.
He was the one that was injured, yes? And yet he was also the only one not weeping.
He sighed, holding his injured foot with the fuzzy blue lure stuck in it, and waiting for the doctor to arrive.